


Dolor

by To_Swerve_And_Defect



Category: 2000AD, Judge Dredd (Comics)
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling, Grief, M/M, Sensuality, Suicide mention, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 13:58:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20995955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/To_Swerve_And_Defect/pseuds/To_Swerve_And_Defect
Summary: Judge Mortis comes to visit Fire while he's obsessing over Sister Despair's destruction and tries to drag him out of it. Takes place somewhere in between during or after the events of Dreams of Deadworld.





	Dolor

**Author's Note:**

> Short Fic, took about maybe seven pages of my word document.

Despair.

He remembered every detail, every word. It was impossible to forget that fateful day. 

Every time, the cold, wet embrace of the ocean washed over him, how his body crackled and hissed violently at the contact.

He remembered the supple, wet rip of flesh as his trident tore through the belly of one of her creations, how its screams of agony distorted and choked as boiling water filled its lungs.

“I would die a thousssand deathsss for you.”

“Then prove it.”

Her.

The venom in her voice, even as a memory, was just as biting and acidic as it was the day he had confronted her. The hate in her eyes, the pure loathing that radiated from her- for him. He could still feel her essence as it had flowed between his fingers, heavy as stone, weightless as air. Weightless, meaningless, as his efforts had been. All the work had had done for her, the petitioning, the negotiating, all for nothing. She had slung him aside as if he was worth as much.

There was a weight that crushed him from inside, as if his body had been filled with stones, sunk into the depths of a dark, icy lake. Poison churned in his core, dulled him, weighed his limbs down and curled his spine into a pathetic, cowering shape. He could not even hear the soft padding of bare feet upon the concrete floor over the white noise in his head. The heavy hand that rested upon his shoulder was but a fly landing on dead stone.

Something mumbled in the background, rumbling and deep. It was distant at first, barely audible above the noise. It wrestled and clawed its way through it, gradually becoming louder, refusing to be drowned out and swamped by the rest of the lead-like sensation that flooded him- overflowed until it threatened to trickle from between his teeth.

“Fire.”

The rousal was slow at first, a dry creak like the shift of burning wood. Flames crackled, they burned low and weak as he felt. His skull tilted to look up and meet the one who disturbed him. He could not mistake the form of his fellow lieutenant; the heft of his form and the long, bestial snout belonged to him and him alone. There was an unseen glance towards the three fingered hand that rested on his shoulder, but made no move to remove it.

“...Mortisss.” He finally uttered, a sound like hot coals crackling and hissing as they cooled.

“You are thinking of her again.” Mortis said, his voice, deep and graveled like a fresh grave, held a tone of concern that was rarely heard. “The passt cannot be changed, Fire. Her fate cannot be changed.”

A stinging sensation cut in among the rest of Fire’s churning malcontent. His skull turned away, the other’s words were met with a low hiss.

“I cannot forget. I cannot let myssself forget what ssshe did.” There was a tremble in his voice as he mentioned her, it stuck in his throat and threatened to seize the rest of him. “I loved her. I did everything in my power to keep usss together. I wanted her to be happy with me, why did ssshe not sssee that?”

He curled in on himself further, a shiver rattled through his form and his flames flared briefly. He heard a sigh from the other, soft, contemplating. Something tightened in the core of him, burned in his throat and in the depths of his eye sockets. His mouth opened to speak again but the words hitched in his throat and came out as something alien- a weak, pathetic sound coughed from him instead. A... A sob?

A charred, clawed hand rose to his mouth, the only thing he could think to do to stifle it. He had to keep it in, he could not let Mortis see him like this. He could not let him see his weakness. Yet in a way it was already too late.

He barely registered the hand sliding off from his shoulder, and Mortis moving outside of his vision until he felt his arms squeeze around him. His grip was as unyeilding as it was surprising.

“Come here.” Mortis hushed, his whisper was a command hiding beneath a comforting tone.

The next thing he knew, he was effortlessly hoisted out of pit of his seat. He could feel his face pressed against Mortis’ chest, as his hands moved from being wrapped around his back to slip under his hips, supporting him. He hissed against the cloth of the other lieutenant’s uniform, uncertain of his intention but uninterested in escaping his embrace. Reactively Fire’s hands scrambled up to wrap around the girth of the other’s neck and dug his fingertips into the flesh. He had not considered it before, but his neck was like clinging to a stone pillar, immovable and rigid. The hands that grasped his hips were equally sure in their grip.

Mortis had visited him before, he had listened to him as he mulled over the memory of Sister Despair. It had occurred so often that the possibility of an ulterior motive left his mind long ago. Now, a dark possibility entered Fire’s mind; perhaps Mortis had been playing the long game, humoring him until he was vulnerable. Perhaps in a time prior, the notion would have been met with anger, a burning rage that would have ignited and incinerated the other’s body in a flash of heat and outrage. But, Fire could not bring himself to begin to struggle against the other lieutenant’s embrace. How he was so light to him, yet his own form felt as if it was filled with wet cement? His insides churned with a toxin that seized every fiber of his being and snuffed his flame to where it barely breached his ashen flesh. Was it even worth fighting?

He tucked his head against the other’s chest, awaiting Mortis to fulfill whatever evil he had in store, watching as he turned around... And sat back down in the seat Fire had been sulking in moments before. There was a sigh and a creak from the cloth of his uniform as he settled into the impromptu chair. Fire’s head tilted to look up at his captor, uncertainty twisted to confusion as he tried in vain to read the skeletal face above him. 

It was not helped when Mortis’ hands came to rest gently over Fire’s back. It was surprising how heavy they felt now.

“Sshe ussed you. That cannot be forgiven, perhapss it cannot be forgotten either.” Mortis rumbled, his tone hushed yet so loud in the quiet chamber. “But sssitting down here, doing nothing but remembering and wondering why will not help you.”

Fire’s jaw parted to say something, but closed as he noticed Mortis tilted his skull to look down at him. Thin, bony fingers relaxed from where they had dug into the thick flesh of the other’s neck. Deep, bruised ruts were left in the skin. Though Fire could not see the wounds inflicted, he still could tell that his claws had sunk into him. His gaze shifted to Mortis’ shoulder, remorse bled into his chest and sat heavy and uncomfortably.

His claws gingerly brushed over the bruises he left. “What elsse iss there to do? We killed thisss planet, there isss nothing left, nothing to disstract me.” He tilted his head to look up at the empty depths of the single eye socket that was focused on him. “I can find no reprieve here.”

There was another hum, thoughtful as it rolled through Mortis’ chest and into Fire’s skull from where it laid against him. Another sensation hit the smaller Dark Judge, tender and gentle, yet it raced up his spine like lightning. His body tensed. There was a sharp hiss of surprise, catching in his throat as he glanced down. Mindlessly, the other’s fingers were lightly tapping against his back, just above his hips. How could his touch be so feather light and yet so distracting? 

“Ah.”

Fire looked away from Mortis’ hands upon hearing him, trying his best to block out the broken rhythm they played out along the rut of his spine. Looking up at Mortis, he seemed to have briefly caught him in the middle of playing his fingers over his back. The moment he had sensed him move, that empty eye socket was back on him again.

“I had been thinking, perhapsss there isss sssomething that could help.” Mortis offered, he sounded so confident that Fire almost began to question it. Before he could say anything however; “Now, relax.”

Fire jolted again, icy lightning raced up his spine and down it. There was a gasp, soft, reflexive at the sudden sensation.

“What-?”

“Sssh, don’t think.” Mortis assured, “Relax, I’m not here to hurt you.”

Part of Fire figured that if Mortis had wanted to do that, he may have done so already. Instead, as he glanced back, he found the larger Dark Judge letting his fingers play up the line of his spine, gently tracing over the bumps that stood out so starkly against his body. Like when he had let his fingers tap on him before, it was overwhelming. One hand paused in its gentle tracing movements to rest over his back. The other rose up to cup the back of Fire’s head, gently coaxing him to settle back down and rest against his chest.

He could feel him gently pet the back of his skull, slowly, oddly comforting. Though while he did not fully understand what was going on, he did not want it to stop either. While the light touches over his back almost made him shiver and jolt at the contact, there was a lingering sensation left behind, an odd electric tingling where his fingers had been. A sensation of want had snuck its way into his mind, a kind previously unknown and to him, unrealized in its necessity. Alien as it was, he could not bring himself to deny it either- even with present company.

Heat puffed from between his teeth, the air around his skeletal jaws rippling and distorting the image of Mortis’ collar. His hips hitched, arching his back up into the three fingered hand that rested over his back, a not so subtle hint he wanted him to keep touching, tracing. He could feel the other’s eye socket still focused on him, perhaps enjoying his reaction.

Mortis’ hand stroked over the back of Fire’s skull a few times more, slowly, contemplating. Yet the hand upon his back remained still. He arched his back into it again, enough that his face pressed itself firmly against Mortis’collar. Even now, the fellow lieutenant was not above teasing him. Frustration began to set in, coiling and glowing hot in his chest. A low hiss seeped from between Fire’s teeth. Perhaps he had gotten the reaction he wanted, maybe he grew tired of watching Fire arch into his hand, but he was not about to consider Mortis felt pity for him when he decided to move his hands over his back again.

Thick, clawed fingers traced along his spine, sending that tingling, icy sensation up and down his back.

“A re you enjoying yourssself?” Mortis asked, his deep voice, though hushed, broke the relative silence.

There was a small sigh from the ashen lieutenant as he settled against his chest, glancing down to watch as both of Mortis’ hands gently pressed his fingers against Fire’s back and slowly dragged them up to his shoulders. 

“...Y-yesss.” Fire uttered softly, uncertain of the question but at the same time he did not wish to risk the possibility of him stopping if he said no.

There was a gentle weight against the back of his head, and the sound of bone rubbing against bone. Although he suspected already what it could be, glancing up confirmed them. Resting comfortably against his head was Mortis’ chin, which was already becoming stained an ashen black from the layer of charcoal that covered Fire’s being. Fire shifted his focus back to Mortis’ hands, watching as well as he could from where he laid as they traveled slowly, languidly up and down his back. He could not help the quiet, pleased noise that rose in his throat from the sensation, though he hoped Mortis had not heard it.

“Are you?” Fire’s question was hesitant, as if it were possibly a dangerous act if he mispoke. “Enjoying yoursself, I mean.”

The other was silent for a moment, and his hands paused up against Fire’s shoulders. A sudden, pitiful sound jumped from him, a gasp and a whimper in a plume of flame that felt far louder than it was down in the quiet furnace room. Muffling himself was impossible when his fingers pressed against his back and massaged deep, slow circles. It felt good, too good. Fire’s body slumped against the other lieutenant, and for a few moments he found it difficult to focus on anything, his vision growing fuzzy and black at the edges.

He almost missed Mortis’ reply.

“Oh yesss. I had consssidered that perhapss you would not be ussed to touch, maybe sssenssitive enough for it to dissstract you out of your perssisstent dolor, but I did not expect you to react quite ssso... Intenssely.” The other’s voice was just as slow and thoughtful as the movement of his fingers, its depth resonating through Fire’s body now that he was pressed so close to him.

However, his response started to rouse Fire out of the comfortable, numbing warmth that washed through his mind. The way he said it, the way he seemed a little too happy about his discovery, it worried him despite the admittedly loving attention.

“What doesss that mean? What are you getting at, Mortisss?” Fire’s body tensed under Mortis’ movements, trying to push himself up to look him in the eye socket instead of staring at the bottom of his jaw. Just like before, it was empty, dark, unreadable.

The gentle, massaging touches stopped. Mortis’ hands slid off Fire’s back to rest on either side of the odd half sphere they were reclined in. Though he quietly wanted them to return, his wariness was a much stronger feeling.

“It doess not mean anything ill, Fire. Or hass that not been clear already? We have no reassson to be enemiesss, you know that.” Mortis’ dead voice took a cooler, calm tone. “I had come to help you get out of your ssspiraling obssesssion with Desspair, but if you would rather wallow in ssself pity and losse yoursself in your memoriesss...”

His head tilted up to get clearance over Fire as he sat up straighter, forcing the lieutenant that had been laying against his chest to sit upright in his lap, straddling his hips.

“We can end thisss here, and never bring it up again.”

Fire’s skull tilted down, the flames of his form began to lick up over his leathers though still weaker than their normal hungry blaze. On one hand, he loathed the idea of Mortis having something over him to use and manipulate, perhaps even finding something entertaining in his vulnerability. Yet, for the whole time he had been in Mortis’ arms, he did not have a single thought about the late Sister and her betrayal- that crushing sense of worthlessness was gone. There was a small sigh and a tongue of flame licked out over his teeth, his skull turned to the side, deciding to focus on the pipes that snaked their way along the wall.

“No... I would rather not.” He quietly confessed.

Icy fingers curled around his chin, gently turning his face to look the other lieutenant in the face, his bestial grin meeting Fire’s. His claws dug against the charred bone, assuring him that while the action had been soft, it was also unyeilding. Looking away was not an option.

“Sssay it again, Fire, dear. Ssay it sso I can hear you.” He hissed, almost sickly sweet in his tone.

Fire tensed in his grip, flustered with him but at the same time he did not want to deny him. 

“I do not want you to ssstop with thessse... Visssits, Mortis. I do not want to be left to wallow in my thoughtsss.” The silence that lingered after, the way his face was still held firmly in Mortis’ hand did not help things. “Pleassse.”

Mortis’ head tilted slightly, as if considering the other’s response. A dead silence lingered between them once more, fingers still digging into Fire’s jaw. but then, there was a small sigh from the other, and Mortis’ grip relaxed, resting his hand upon the other lieutenant’s shoulder.

“Good.” He uttered, pleased with his reply.

But as he invited Fire to lay back against him once again, the hand upon his shoulder nudging gently, he reached up to grasp and move it aside. The embers deep in the recesses of Fire’s eye sockets focused on him intently.

“However, there isss one condition I want met.” Fire hissed, “I do not want you usssing any of thisss asss leverage, or mentioning thisss meeting to the othersss.”

Mortis quickly replied, “Of courssse, friend. Not a sssoul will know, thisss will jusst be between usss.”

“And asss for trying to hold any of thiss over my head later?”

The horse-like skull atop his shoulders gave a brisk shake and his jaws opened to speak. “Like I sssaid, we are not enemiesss. I would not do anything to hurt you.”

A low hiss whispered from between Fire’s teeth. The answer was not exactly what he had been hoping for, but when it came to Mortis, simply promising that he would do no harm was going to have to be enough and see where things went from there. Even so, he was hesitant to lay back down against him. Fire’s form remained upright, tense upon Mortis’ hips as he stared at him, contemplating, studying. The other often was calm, even seeming friendly, but so much more was often going on underneath the surface- he knew well enough from experience.

Sometimes he wished there still was flesh upon his face that he could read.

“Pleassse, Fire. Come here.” Mortis invited, opening his arms in a welcoming gesture. “Come enjoy the moment and ssstop thinking for a while.”

Perhaps if he truly meant ill, he would have done so already, before he embraced him, before gently holding and stroking his back. Yes, if he wanted him destroyed, he would not have drawn things out for so long. He eventually came back to rest against Mortis’ chest, letting his head tuck just under his jaw as the other’s fingers began to gently play along his spine. He idly heard a rumble of a response from Mortis, something along the lines of “Good”. Fire had become too caught up in the other’s motions to bother caring too much about it after a few moments.

\-----

A loud, dull creak echoed through the depths of the empty building. A heavy door of solid metal swung on rusting hinges, echoing down a hall lined with carefully stacked skulls and prior experimental momentos lovingly preserved in formaldehyde and displayed in glass containers. A long shadow stretched over the floor, its shoulders were sloped and hulking like some great, terrible beast had learned to walk upright. Yet, it belonged here. This was his home after all, Mortis’ home.

The door shut behind it with as much of a complaint as when it had been opened. His form, as putrid as it had looked before, seemed even more sickly under the greenish tint of the fluorescent lighting. As he walked past the walls of skulls and curated medical horrors, he reached up, tucking his fingers into a tear in his uniform that had otherwise gone unnoticed until he disturbed it.

From between his ribs, Mortis retrieved a device; large, insect shaped. The undead contemplated it, or more, how close he came to finding yet another unfortunate reason to use it- the Psi-Drain. He had used it when they had to execute almost all of the other Dark Judges Death had under his employ. He had been prepared to use it on Fire when he had visited, an act of mercy for the depressed lieutenant. Yet, despite the threat of Fire possibly being lost to the depths of his own despair and obsession, and the knowledge that having to deal with its inevitable outcome was his duty, it was a possibility that sat heavy in the depths of his hollow chest. 

He knew what it was like to love, and be unable to carry it over into their newfound existence. The sadness, the grief it brought was something he was greatly familiar with. Fire, as emotional as he was, how he handled it was a great worry that he would have been consumed by it, perhaps to the point where he would have no longer wanted to exist.

It probably was worse for him than it had been for Mortis, Despair had used him for her own gains, to be able to carry out her own experiments deep beneath the ocean.

He let his fingers linger over the gold plating upon the carapace as he came to stand near one of the displays.

“You did good, Fire. Very good.” He uttered to himself, before setting it aside.


End file.
